Lost in Memory
by Avenue47
Summary: Sydney has everything she wants, but why isn't she happy? Future AU, no S4 plot points included.


Sydney sat up in the bed, breathing heavily, heart pounding. She quickly shoved down panic she couldn't explain. Surely, she just woke up from a nightmare, but she couldn't remember what it was about. Her eyes darted about her bedroom, searching for comfort. They alighted on the sleeping figure next to her.

He lay on his stomach, one arm tucked under him, one lying behind her, having slipped off her waist when she sat up. His head faced her, and she reached out a hand to lightly ruffle his hair. This was the first time she'd seen him like this in over three years: enjoying perfect repose in her bed.

Six months had passed since Lauren Reed's death, and though they'd shared a kiss while she died, they later agreed the gesture was macabre and desperate. Afterwards, they decided it would be best if they put their feelings for one another on the back burner, waiting until physical wounds were healed, bureaucratic messes cleaned up, and the dust generally settled.

Two and a half months, several debriefings, two formal inquiries, two paid administrative leaves, and a lengthy hospital stay later, Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn went on their first formal (fully sanctioned) dinner date.

In the following months, they conducted their mutual courtship slowly, taking time to savor all the little things they'd missed out on, or didn't get nearly enough of the first time. Hockey games, miniature golf forays, wonderful restaurants around the world, they enjoyed everything they'd dreamed about in the time before.

_Before._ Before her abduction, before his marriage, before the staggering chaos that followed. Though it was anything but, "before" seemed so much simpler.

She knew who she was then, knew where she came from, who her friends and who her enemies were. Her relationship with him was an innocent thing, full of new love and the joy of discovery. Though what they felt now held echoes of that past, it also held echoes of the scars subsequent events brought. She tried not to mention Lauren, he tried not to mention her family, and they both tried to ignore the time she'd been gone.

Syd shook her head, disgusted with herself. In the past months, her relationship with Vaughn reached a level of happiness and contentment neither of them thought possible considering the looming past. Why she questioned this, in the dark hours of the night, with him by her side, made no sense. She dismissed it as an after-affect of the nightmare she must've had.

She settled back down into the bed, and wrapped his arm back around her. In mere moments, she returned to slumber.

Consciousness slipped back to her in the morning, and she opened her eyes to find a sight from her favorite recollections: his glittering eyes gazing at her from the other pillow. She grinned at him, and the smile he already wore grew to match.

She used to simultaneously torture and comfort herself with that particular memory, when she first returned. She couldn't bear to wake in the knowledge that she lay in her bed alone, so she would pretend he lay there with her, using those memories.

Now she felt immense delight that her remembrance-laced dream finally came true. She could tell he felt the same, in that wonderful way they always had of reading the other's emotions.

She wanted to speak, tell him she loved him, or something equally adoring, but she also felt this particular moment was too precious for words.

He seemed to feel the same, and thought actions more appropriate, for he reached across, gently grasped the back of her head, and brought her to him for a tender kiss. A kiss that quickly turned heated, and moved to consume them both in the activities that kept him here the previous night.

Afterwards, she stayed sprawled on the bed, while he arose to shower. She could stay like this, she thought, she could stay like this forever. On this bed, knowing he would return to her, again and again.

However, the comfort that should've accompanied this thought was strangely absent. Instead, she felt a peculiar hollowness inside of her, where her musings bounced about uselessly. The hollowness resided mainly in her stomach, where it created a pit of nothing, sucking in her delighted thoughts.

He re-entered the room then, drops of water glistening off his nude form. They sparkled like little beads of light in the morning sun, like tiny particles of hope. She looked up to see the brighter shine, his smile, and when she found it, it banished the hollowness, filled the pit with his love.

It was a morning, like any other. Only extraordinary in the fact that it started to become ordinary. They would awake, make love, shower, dress, and leave for work together. Breakfast would come from the Starbucks drive-through, and lunch didn't matter, though they always took it together.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Wanna to go to a movie? I know you haven't been to one in awhile."

"Neither have you."

"I know. What do you want to see?"

"It doesn't matter." And it didn't, according to the smile she gave him. It didn't matter as long as she was with him. She always told him that, verbally and nonverbally.

However, she didn't tell him that sometimes when they talked like this, sharing small conversations brimming with unspoken love, she felt like she only said what she was _supposed_ to say. She felt as if she recited a script penned long before the conversation took place.

She felt similarly to this other times as well. She would feel like she wasn't in control of herself, like she was a passive observer in her own body. True, she could feel herself speak, act, move, and know she did it herself, but still felt she possessed no control. Sadly, it happened most often when in a beautiful moment with him. Sharing loving thoughts, sharing passionate bodies, wondrous times of bonding, she felt as if those moments acted upon her, not like she acted in them.

Oddly, it seemed like the only time she held full control over herself was when she remembered _before_. When she recalled what it was like to touch him for the first time. When she reminisced about when they first tentatively revealed their feelings to one another. When she thought about all the different aspects of their lives that brought them together.

It also disturbed her that sometimes, only these thoughts could make her feel truly content, truly loved. It shouldn't be that way, what was happening with him _now_ should make her happy, not their short prologue that ended so horribly.

She tried to tell him sometimes, share with him her feelings of disquiet that sometimes haunted her. But when she opened her mouth, only the scripted sentences came out.

"I love you."

He dropped a box on the floor of her living room and smiled, brushing his hands together in satisfaction.

"That's the last one."

"Good!" She hugged him, and then weaved through piles of boxes to the kitchen. "Ready for something to eat?"

"Am I ever!"

She smiled as she set the plate of pasta in front of him. He took his time and made sure she knew that he savored every bite, though he'd skipped lunch and would've just as happily devoured a can of cold Spam.

But he told her the extra hunger was more than worth it. He managed to get the last of his things packed up and brought over shortly before sunset. She promised him dinner when he finished.

As he ate, she surveyed her house, and boxes sitting all over the floor. He moved his furniture last weekend, what little he had. He'd admitted to her that after selling his house, and everything in it except his personal belongings, he didn't feel like buying more furniture, so he only bought the necessities for his studio apartment.

So most of his furniture, like the futon, the coffee table, and the television, went into the guest room. She'd never properly furnished it anyway. Other things, like a bookcase, an end table, a lamp, they dispersed throughout the house to places that made them look like they'd been there all along.

She could hardly believe that about six months had passed since that first night spent together, almost a year since he made himself a widower. The time seemed to move too fast, rushing towards an undefined ending.

But this wasn't an ending, it was a beginning. A consolidation of their lives, though it was merely a formality. He'd barely left her place in the last six months.

She looked at him again, still consuming his dinner in contentment, and felt a stab of fear. What if they were doing this too fast? Was this really a wise move? They went on like this _before_, and look what happened.

But _before_, they still lived apart. They still had that safety net. True, things went wrong, but they were due to circumstances beyond their control. They could change things now, take it all back, make sure everything was right before _really_ doing this.

He finished his last bite, and she took the plate from him. She placed it in the sink, and stood before it for a second.

"You know," she turned around to face him, a serious look on her face.

"I can't begin to tell you how happy this makes me." Her face grew into a large smile, and he smiled in return.

Inside, she screamed. She'd only said what she was supposed to say.

He turned and looked at her, every few seconds, smiling. She wanted to yell at him to keep his eyes on the road, but she only smiled back.

When she wasn't looking at him, she looked at the shining diamond on her ring finger. She knew she should feel ecstatic, like her every dream just came true, but she didn't. She felt queasy, and scared.

Of course she couldn't tell him, not now. Not after he bent down on one knee, and she told him "yes." Not now that they drove down the freeway, towards a "surprise" he had for her.

She also didn't tell him she didn't like surprises anymore.

"This is going to be so great," he told her, grinning and glowing like a man truly in love. He looked at her like she mirrored his feelings, but she wished he could see how she truly felt, dark and cringing.

"I can't wait," she replied, like a pre-recorded message. She felt her lips stretch even wider, and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

There, she felt safe. There, she could think of _before_.

The pier, the train station, his father's watch, their first kiss, the first time they made love. All of them flashed before her eyes.

True, all of these memories led to a horrible ending, but it was only an ending to the first part. She came back for the second part, and though she returned to a living hell, she still returned to a world where they both lived.

The squeal of tires jolted her out of her memories. She lurched forward into her seatbelt as the car came to a sudden, unexpected stop. Gunfire sounded from somewhere nearby, and the sound of breaking glass preceded hot bursts of pain blossoming in her body.

"VAUGHN!" she screamed, and opened her eyes to look at him.

Blood splattered her face, her eyes widened in horror, and this time her scream was wordless.

Sydney sat up in the bed, breathing heavily, heart pounding. She quickly shoved down panic she couldn't explain. Surely, she just woke up from a nightmare, but she couldn't remember what it was about. Her eyes darted about her bedroom, searching for comfort. They alighted on the sleeping figure next to her.

He lay on his stomach, one arm tucked under him, one lying behind her, having slipped off her waist when she sat up. His head faced her, and she reached out a hand to lightly ruffle his hair. This was the first time she'd seen him like this in over three years: enjoying perfect repose in her bed.

Eric Weiss trudged through the hospital halls, trailing weariness and melancholy in his wake. The walls, though painted bleach white, looked to him as if they were a dreary gray. The flowers in the nurses' station, sent to a patient already discharged, looked to be quickly dying.

Or maybe it was just him.

He reached his destination, a small room in the middle of the corridor. He greeted the man sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed, his constant miserable company.

"How is she?"

Jack Bristow looked at his daughter lying in the hospital bed. If it wasn't for the respirator sticking out of her mouth, and the tubes running from her body, she might've looked like she merely slept. He looked back to Weiss and shook his head.

"The same. The doctors still can't figure out why she won't come out of it."

Weiss gave a sad look to his unlikely companion. This morning, he figured it out. After thinking of all the horrible things his friends had gone through, he figured it out. And he might as well tell Jack.

"She won't. As long as she knows he won't be waiting for her, she won't."

Understanding colored Jack's eyes, and he swore under his breath before revealing his own thoughts to Weiss.

"If it wasn't for what she found out, what I did, I might be able to do something." Weiss nodded back at him.

"Maybe." Weiss turned around to leave.

"Eric." He turned back around to face Jack again, and looked at him questioningly.

"How is he?" Weiss shook his head and looked down.

"The same."

His arm slipped off her waist, waking him up. However, he didn't open his eyes, he merely savored her presence silently. For several moments, she only sat there, doing nothing. He thought about asking her if something was wrong, but then he felt her fingers in his hair.

A few moments later, she settled back down beside him, put his arm back around her, and snuggled into him. He waited until her breathing told him she'd fallen asleep again, and opened his eyes. He could only see the top of her head, the beautiful hairs emerging from her scalp. But he could feel all of her pressed against him. This was the first time in over three years he'd gotten to feel her like this. He smiled against the back of her head, and returned to sleep himself.

A/N: The idea for this came to me while my husband and I were coming home from the mountains at night. Dark, curvy, mountain road, and I was hoping I wouldn't get carsick. My muse got weird instead.

Originally, I was going to have the ending sadder, or more ambiguous. But I just couldn't do it. So you got the "happier" ending. :P

And a **hint** that I just couldn't bring myself to put at the beginning because I didn't want to give anything away:

**This story works on three different levels.**

Now don't you want to read it again? ;)


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